Story Crew at the Inventory
by nightelf37
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. As far as I know, only two others (Skye Slipstream and RLYoshi) have made something like this. I hope my story can compare.


nightelf37: This is another one-shot, and a Story Crew one. I know that there are other fics like it, but here's my spin on Poker Night at the Inventory. Enjoy. I own only my rendition of the Player.

_Story Crew at the Inventory_

A hooded man walked down the dark, brick alleyway which did not look at all red due to the lighting from the street lamps. He wore a black trenchcoat that was double-breasted and twin-tailed, with a hood and long sleeves. It had a large silver zipper that fastened at the top and zipped down to seal the coat, the zipper having a disc depicting an open book attached to it. The man's face was unremarkable and near-featureless as he bypassed a dumpster with its rotting trash. The man had a name, but went by the alias "the Player".

Folowing the instructions given to him, he looked for a sign of the place he needed to go to and soon found it. "The Inventory.", he read. The plaque was placed on an imposing back door that almost blended in with the rest of the wall were it not for the sign on top with a lantern in the shape of three crates and the lamp just above the door. There was also a suspicious rectangular something that reminded him of a doormat.

The Player approached the door, stepping on the rectangular shape on the floor, seriously hoping this wasn't a trap. Taking a moment to compose himself, he knocked on the door three times. Almost immediately, a featureless voice beckoned, "What is fun according to Johan Huizinga?"

The Player already knew the answer to the question. "Fun is an absolutely primary category of life, familiar to everybody at a glance right down to the animal level." Right after the last word left his mouth, the borders of the platform underneath him opened and it seemed that a golden elevator began to form around him. Its gates closed around him with a silent click, then the platform beneath him began to descend.

On the way down, he saw a platform that held a coil of rope and an old toolbox, an air vent big enough for him to crawl through, and a window blocked off by crossed wires. At the last one, he saw that there was a boy looking back at him before the elevator took them both out of each other's sights. Eventually, a large arch akin to that of a cathedral came into view.

At a far balcony, the Player thought he saw an anthropomorphic brown dog in a grayish film noir-styled suit, with a hat and a blue and black striped tie. This anthro dog then adjusted his tie before walking away. Finally, after noting the green walls that practically screamed "antique", the lift stopped and opened its doors. The Player stepped out and noted the diamond-shaped lamps suspended upon large bookcases and the floorboards that thankfully didn't creak as he walked upon them.

He first noted the slim red-headed man with a mustache walk down a hall away from him, then an elegant blonde woman in a slim magenta dress perusing one of the bookcases, and then he saw one of the bookcase walls slide open soundlessly. He rolled his eyes at the sight as a short, stout, yet imposing man emerged from it, emanating a "Saturday evening" aura. He had tanned skin, a sailor hat, a red leather robe, a white dress shirt beneath it, a slightly bulbous nose, the cheeks of a constant smiler (voluntary or otherwise), brown hair in sideburns and a handlebar mustache, and dark brown eyes.

Upon seeing the Player, the man brushed aside to let the woman into the corridor he left, then turned to address him as the bookcase closed. "Oh, hello there!" He walked over with a slight. "Another enthusiast, I presume." His voice was a mix between a butler and and a man of the seas. "How good it is to see a fresh face here at the Inventory..."

The Player nodded and greeted the presumed host of the secret underground speakeasy. "Good evening, sir."

"Please, call me Winslow. And may I ask...?"

"You may call me 'the Player'."

"I see. I imagine you're here for the card game with the fellows downstairs." Winslow indicated the stage below, seemingly disdained for some reason.

The Player nodded in response.

"Let me lead you down there." The two went down the flight of stairs on the right that led to the main floor. As the two passed down, Winslow spoke again, "A first timer, hm?" The Player grunted in affirmation. "I'm more familiar with the, uh... benefactions of the club."

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Winslow halted by several framed documents and turned to the Player as he caught up to him. "The club was founded in 1919, in response to an early draft of the 18th amendment." He hesitated, then continued through the bar as the two passed a pair of ladies—one with a black afro and one in green hair tied in a ponytail—playing Nintendo™ Game Boys (the original one, no less) in fierce competition. "Through... 'back channels', it was learned that this vile piece of legislation would not only outlaw libation," They reached the bar, where a gruff hairy-knuckled man with a smile on his liquor-parched lips drunk. "But games and amusements that could also 'threaten the world renowned determination and productivity of the American work force'." Winslow turned back to the Player at the end of this statement with a mock salute before throwing his arms in protest. "Pah! Can you **imagine**? Games **outlawed**?!"

The Player could only grumble on how ridiculous that was…and how horrifying it would've been if it pulled through. He then inspected the club to its finest detail as they passed a bulbous yellow being that resembled an orange and was colored there in his head, stubby limbs, and a stripe across his body. He bounced past in an aggravated mood, a poker visor on his head. He paid no mind, as strange characters like him were the norm in the Story Crew.

Winslow continued, "Nevertheless, this club has been here in secret ever since," The Player looked up at the crates-shaped. "Just in case those 'in charge' get another bee in their bonnet." He gave a grunt at the end of that as the two of them passed by an abandoned board game on a table. Winslow then turned to the Player with wide arms and a wide smile. "So, welcome! And enjoy yourself." His eyes then darted to the commotion on the stage behind him. "Ah, your table." The Player turned to see its four occupants.

There was an anthropomorphic rabbit (or lagomorph at the very least) without clothes, and with serrated teeth. Then a short masked luchador in a red mask showing green eyes and rectangular mouth, black shorts, red boots, and boxing gloves. Then a large man in a red uniform of sorts, a black protective vest, black trousers, and a bandolier of bullets. And finally an ordinary teenager with dust brown-and-black hair, a blue sweater with two light blue stripes on it, beige-colored pants, and black-and-white sneakers.

Winslow cleared his throat as he turned to the four. "Ahem, gentlemen!"

With sudden interest, four faces turned, each observing the Player with scrutiny, the rabbit standing on his chair, the short wrestler standing as well, the large man turning as he leaned on his small chair, and the teen in blue leaned his chair further back so he can see the Player, leaving its front legs to dangle in the air. "I hope there is room at the table for a fifth."

The Player decided to make his way to the stage steps. "Aha, fresh meat!", said a manically interested voice – the anthro rabbit.

The Player stopped for a second, wondering if he meant that literally or not, and that disturbed him. Nonetheless, he pushed the thought aside as he took the only empty seat left.

"Perhaps our newcomer would like to set the stakes for tonight's game?", Winslow suggested. The Player responded by casually reaching into his coat and tossing a bundle of American dollars in cash onto the table. The stringed sum bounced for a moment before resting in the middle of the five occupants. "That sounded like ten thousand dollars landing on the table, to the note."

"Here ya go!", said the rabbit as he hurled his own ten thousand.

"Chump change, I say. Chump change!", a cynical voice challenged and produced the money, which came from the masked shorty.

"The die has been cast.", a voice declared with calm and relaxed inflictions, which came from the guy in blue as he rounded off the sum.

All eyes set on the large man, who seemed to be disappointed since he couldn't pay up. "I am sorry.", he said in a slow but powerful Russian voice. "I do not have this money... I did, but Sasha has been very good lately, and I wanted to get her gifts. The money is gone. I have no choice..."

"Aw, you gotta play!", pleaded the rabbit as the large man got up.

"I have no choice but to buy in with Sasha, so I can keep honor." He reached down to lift a minigun made out of wood and metal, with identifiable features such as the Communist Hammer and Sickle emblem visible on the ammo casing and a smoking vent on the side.

"It's... it's... beautiful!" The rabbit was in awe as he put his right hand to his face. The other players were also awed at the sight of the weapon, the Player himself included, whose interest in the tens of thousand completely disappeared.

"I hope this is alright.", said the large man as he set "Sasha" down and propped "her" up so that "her" barrel is against the table.

"Ha ha, I see no problem with it.", Winslow said as he gave an enthusiastic beam. "Whoever knocks him out will receive his buy-in. The game will be No-Limit Texas Hold-Em'." He peered at the table, apparently pleased that the Player had remained seated, and cupped his hands politely. "I will periodically raise the blinds. May the best player win!" He turned and wandered away, leaving the Player with his four opponents as he sighed quietly.

_This is going to be a long night._

* * *

During the fifth hand, before the blinds are about to be raised by Winslow, the Player had identified the names of his opponents; the rabbit was named Max, the masked shorty Strong Bad, the large man "The Heavy", and the guy in blue Tycho Brahe. Max has paid the small blind (of $100) while Strong Bad has paid the big blind (of $200).

Tycho gave the Player an uninterested look as the Heavy called the bet. "So, shall we just call you Nameless Protagonist?"

"No, call me 'the Player'.", he replied as Tycho called as well.

"Ooh!", teased Strong Bad before turning his head away and speaking softly, feigning indifference. "I mean... cool, whatever."

"Call.", the Player declared. His hand consisted of a Six of Spades and a Ten of Hearts.

"Let's see…I'll call.", Max said as he threw in a chip.

"Free card!", Strong Bad cried out; he checked.

The flop showed a Seven and Three of Hearts and a Jack of Clubs. Max checked and so did Strong Bad, but the Heavy decided to bet $200. Everybody called and the turn revealed a Four of Hearts.

Max and Strong Bad checked once more, and the Heavy decided to bet once more, this time wagering $900.

"I'm folding these.", Tycho said as he put his cards away from him.

"Time to show your honor.", the Heavy taunted the Player. "Can you beat me?"

The Player just answered with a smirk and a "Raise." as he put $1100, raising by $200.

Max called the bet and Strong Bad raised it by $400, putting in $1500.

"Hmm…I can't quit now." The Heavy called the bet and so did the Player.

The river then revealed an Ace of Hearts. "Nnnnngh, I don't think so." Max folded.

Strong Bad bet $200. "I'll throw some chippies into the pot. Chippy Chippies."

"I can call your bet, and buy sandvich!", the Heavy said as he placed his chips.

"Raise.", the Player raised $500. Strong Bad called the bet.

"I am coming for you. Raise more!" The Heavy raised by $600.

The Player, confident in his hand, decided to coax some more money out of them by betting $900. "Reraise."

"Oooh... when I see that many chips in one place, I want to coat my slick fur in cooking grease and roll around in 'em!", Max commented.

"You're not the only one who can spread the 'moo-stard'!", retorted Strong Bad. "Reraise!" He raised by $500.

"I like you! You try to scare me! Hahaha, little baby act big and tough!", the Heavy raised by $1000.

Unable to hide his eagerness, the Player declared, "Raise.", bringing the pot up to $21000.

Apparently, Strong Bad was tired of this, but not intimidated enough to fold. Not by a long shot. "Trying to raise me off the pot, 'cause you think I have the wheel? Or the tire? Or the Guatemalan tricycle? I call!"

The Heavy decided to call as well. "I will not let you get away without showing big man cards!"

Everybody then revealed their hands (Strong Bad having an Ace of Diamonds and Jack of Spades with the Heavy having a Five of Diamonds and a Six of Hearts) and Winslow announced them, "Strong Bad has…Two Pair. The Heavy has…a Straight! The Player has…a **Flush**! The Player wins the hand."

The Heavy looked extremely pissed at this. "What?! I WILL NOT LOSE TO LUCKY COWARD! I KILL YOU!" He then crushed his cards in one hand, stood up, flipped the table over, pulled out Sasha, and spun her as if to fire at the flipped table... "EYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

_WHIMP_

But it turns out to be all in his head as the Heavy sat down again. "Deal new hand now.", he said.

"…What just happened?", the Player wondered.

"I don't know.", replied Max.

* * *

"How'd you guys hear about The Inventory?", Tycho asked as the Player checked his cards; a Five of Spades and a Three of Clubs.

Max explained as Tycho called the bet. "Sam heard about it when we were on a case out West, and I'll loiter just about anywhere that will pour me a drink with no questions asked."

"My engineering friend brought me one night.", the Heavy said as the Player called as well while Max folded.

"The only good thing I got out of those Telltales was a recommendation for a decent hangout.", said Strong Bad as the Heavy raised $1000, which Tycho called.

"Me?", the Player said as he called the bet and Strong Bad folded. "A colleage of mine recommended this joint." The flop showed a Seven and Ten of Clubs, and a Five of Hearts.

"I bet." Heavy wagered $1200. Tycho folded, and the Player began to think about what to do when the Heavy taunted, "I promise, if you fight me, it will not last long. I kill quick, but not cleanly. I'm sorry." Making his decision, the Player chose to call.

When the turn showed a Ten of Hearts, the Heavy decided to go All In. Deciding to play smart this time, the Player said, "Fold."

"The Heavy wins the hand.", Winslow announced.

"I forget how scary I am sometimes.", the Heavy said as he collected the pot.

_I'll get that gun._, thought the Player. _I swear I will._

BREAK

"I am reminded of time Engineer kill my entire team.", the Heavy said as everybody received their two cards; the Player's was an Ace of Clubs and a Queen of Hearts. He paid the big blind and Tycho the small blind.

"Damn, Heavy, that's, uh... heavy." Tycho sympathized. "I'm sorry to hear that." The Player resisted the urge to giggle at the joke, not wanting to spoil the mood.

"I search entire base for him." Max and Strong Bad folded. "He tries to kill me with turret and mini-turret, but I crush his toys like they are made of paper." The Heavy and Tycho called the blinds.

"Sounds like-a some crappy toys, if you ask me.", commented Strong Bad as the Player bet $1200.

"Then I find him, hiding by teleporter.", the Heavy paused to fold. "I take his gun away from him." Tycho called the $1500 bet. "He tries to hit me with wrench! Hahaha!" As the flop showed a Three and Nine of Hearts and a King of Clubs, the Player continued to listen as he raised $900. "So I take wrench away from him. I take his wrench and shove it down his throat. All the way down to the handle."

"Christ!", Tycho was shocked at this as he folded.

"The Player wins the hand.", Winslow announced, interrupting the conversation.

"Where was I? Oh! Christ!"

The Heavy began to laugh as the Player collected his chips and the next hand was dealt, providing him with a four of Diamonds and a Nine of Spades. "Then I rip off all his fingers, one by one!" The Player has paid the small blind and Max the big blind. "Let's see you build toys now!" Strong Bad called the blind before the Heavy started laughing hysterically and gesturing with eagerness. "**There is blood everywhere! And he is crying! **Hahahahaha!", it was Tycho's turn to call, bet, or fold, but he, along with everybody else, was too busy listening to the Heavy to continue playing at the moment. "**I think he cries out for mother, but... but...** hahaha, **the wrench is stuck in his throat! **Ha, and it sounds like—" The Heavy made choking noises, clearly sounding like he enjoyed the whole story. "Hahahaha! Is this not the funniest thing?"

From what the Player could tell from the others during the game, everyone was a psychopath at some level, but this story shocked even **them**, as the faces were evident in Max's disturbingly creepy-cute face and Tycho's slow head-shake. The Player had encountered such characters before, but to hear a story like this was a bit too much for him to handle.

Strong Bad was the one to break the silence. "That is some bleeped up bleep, man!"

And with that, the tension shortly ended as Tycho called the blind.

_How did I get myself into this?_, the Player wondered.

* * *

"The Player wins the hand."

"I guess that's a good hand.", Strong Bad said. "Like a baby hand. You have baby hands."

"Hahaha! Baby hands!", the Heavy laughed.

"Tycho has been eliminated from play." The Player barely contained a thankful sigh. Tycho really knew how to play Poker, and it was only by luck that he had to go All In with a Two Pair, only to lose to the player's Full House.

"Ugh, fine. Time to just—" Tycho reached into his pockets when he suddenly stopped as four men were now standing around the poker table. Max was holding a Luger pistol with a bemused expression on his face, Strong Bad was unusually threatening with a "nunchuck gun" aimed at Tycho's head, and the Heavy was spinning Sasha. As for the Player, he had no weapon to use, so he just sat and stared. Tycho slowly raised his right hand to reveal a Grotien bar. "—to just finish the second half of this chewy granola bar, guaranteed to cheer me up after losing a king's ransom!" He waved the bar, seemingly insulted. "Jesus crunchy Christ!"

Heavy un-revved his minigun and put her down. "...Oh."

Max threw his pistol over his shoulder. "Whoopsie!"

Strong Bad retained his aim. "Hand it over."

Tycho shook his head with frustration, before he left for the bar to sit next to the guy there, whose name was Flint Paper according to Max.

BREAK

Max had won a good deal of money with a good deal of luck. Most of it was the Player's, who wondered just how was he able to do this. Throughout the game, the rabbit was claiming that he had latent psychic powers, but he wasn't sure if he was psyching him out or telling the truth.

"Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war?", the Heavy asked Strong Bad as he bet.

"Hmm, in WAR? Probably those Green Helmets. You know, the guys who don't have any cool weapons or gimmicks, and come in a discount three-pack."

"Well, for me, there's my org's rival org.", the Player answered as he folded. "We've been at each other's necks for as long as I can remember."

"To kill spy is glorious thing!", the Heavy said, the turned to the rabbit. "How about you, Max? You are killing type."

"My favorite enemy?" Max gasped at this for some reason as if the Heavy had forced him to make a very morally difficult decision. "That's like asking me to choose between my children!"

The Heavy gave a hearty laugh. "You crack me up, little bunny!"

The Player grumbled and smacked his forehead as the flop showed two Sevens and a Two; he could've gotten a Full House.

BREAK

"Did I ever tell you the time Flint caught Artie Flopshark, the poker instructor, stealing money from the tenants next store to our office?", Max said as he called the Player's bet.

"No, but this floppyshark sounds like my type of dude.", replied Strong Bad as he called, now having more money than Max, who lost some to him, the Heavy, and the Player. For some reason, his luck has now reversed.

"Flint saw Artie going door to door telling some stupid story about having to run really far or a bunch of people were going to die. And people were just handing him stacks of cash!"

At this point, the Heavy had decided to fold and they were waiting for the Player to make his move just as the turn revealed the next card.

"Sounds like charity work to me.", the Player said as he checked.

"Then why, pray-tell, throughout his entire vicious pummeling did Artie insist he needed '10K'?", asked the lagomorph as he checked as well and Strong Bad went all in.

"What were his exact words, Max? Because I think he was actually running 10 K-lometers. " The Player folded. "Y'know, for charity."

"Well, long story short, Flint broke both of his legs and beat him to within an inch of his life. So... he wasn't running anywhere after that." With that, Max decided to go all in as well. The two non-normal looking humans (the normal humans being Tycho, the Player, and the Heavy) revealed their cards. The present community cards were a Five, Three, and Ace of Diamonds, and an Ace of Spades. Max had a the last two Aces while Strong Bad had a Four of Diamonds and a Five of Clubs. As it was, the lagomorph was in the lead. Only the river can save Strong Bad now.

And it did. The river was revealed to be a Two, but not just a Two. It was a Two of Diamonds.

"Squeedily-WOW!", Strong Bad cheerfully cried out as he realized what happened.

"Max has…four of a kind!", Winslow announced in excitement. "Strong Bad has…a straight flush! Strong Bad wins the hand!"

"All I gots is this…" The masked shorty raised his arms tauntingly. "Winning hand!" He then proceeded to take out a shovel and transfer the pot to his pile. "Psyche! Face! WHOOP! PLOMPH!"

"Max has been eliminated from play."

"I'll be at the bar!", the rabbit called as he stood up in his chair. "I hope they don't ask for my ID."

"You're not old enough?", the Player quipped. "For a lagomorph like you, that is."

"No, it's just embarrassing whenever I have to… produce it." He then jumped off the chair and left.

_Hammerspace._, the Player thought as he made a sidelong glance at the two red guys left on the table.

* * *

The next flop showed a King and Nine of Hearts and a Queen of Spades. The player had a Five and Jack of Spades.

"Strong and bad, how is boxing career?", the Heavy asked as he bet $1600.

"THESE ARE MY HANDS!", Strong Bad retorted as he shook them in a whining manner.

"I was boxer once. In school." The Player raised $700. "We have to either box or learn to herd goats." The Heavy paused for a while as Strong Bad folded. "I am not good with goats."

"Too much information, man. You're Too Much Information Man." The Heavy called the Player's bet and the turn revealed a Ten of Hearts.

"At first, I do not like punching other boys." The Heavy bet $1600 again, then put his fist onto his open hand. "But then I learn to LOVE it. " He then turned to the Player, who seemed to be deep in thought. He decided to taunt him. "It is not always easy to be courageous without holding giant weapon, but you must try."

"FIne words." The Player then pushed every single one of his chips forth. "All in."

"Jeeze St. Jeezum!", cried out Strong Bad.

The Heavy cried out something in Russian then turned to his chips. "What was that, Tiny Chips? You all want to fight with me? This is best idea." He pushed them all into the pot, then the two of them revealed their hands, the Heavy's being an Ace of Hearts and Eight of Diamonds. The Player was in the lead and he knew it too. However, he was wary that should the river reveal a Jack of Hearts, it would be an instant reversal to the Heavy's favor.

The river was then revealed…a red card. An Ace of Diamonds.

"Aww!", the Heavy cried out as the Player sighed in relief.

"The Heavy has…a straight.", Winslow stated. "The Player has…a straight. The Player wins the hand."

"So you got a couple o' lucky cards.", Strong Bad said. "You know you're gonna get hit by a truck on the way home. Right? It's the inverse property of luck-have."

"The Heavy has been eliminated from play."

The Heavy turned to look at his gun for one last time. "Goodbye, my love." He cradled its barrel before getting up from the table.

"Don't worry, Ivan.", said the Player as he got up to claim his prize. "She will be in good hands."

"Thank you." And with that, the mercenary walked away and took his own seat at a booth near the stage. There was no one else there, and he did not order any drinks – just seemed to zone out.

The Player then went over to the minigun and attempted to lift it, only to find that he can't without extreme effort.

"Just leave it there for now.", said Strong Bad, unconcerned. "We got a game to finish."

"You better not steal it."

"Oh, come on. Do you really think I can carry that?"

"I'm not about to find out."

* * *

The next couple of hands with Strong Bad proved to be difficult, with the masked shorty losing money fron his reckless bets, and the Player losing them when calling his bluffs, causing favor to see-saw between the two of them. It's been like a tug of war over the chips. After a lot more hands, the scales tipped into the Player's favor as he had most of the money. His hand currently consisted of a Six of Spades and a Queen of Clubs.

With the blinds being 1000-2000 now, the Player called the big one. As for Strong Bad…

"ALLLL INNN!"

The Player smirked at this as the masked shorty revealed his cards; a Nine and Four of Clubs.

The tension rose as the flop revealed…an Ace of Spades, an Ace of Diamonds, and a Four of Hearts.

The Player gulped at this as Strong Bad cried out "Huttah!" and shook his hands in anticipation of the next card. The turn revealed…an ace of Clubs.

"Hecks Yeah!"

_Just great._

The river soon came. Last card of the night for Strong Bad, or just another card for the Player. It turned.

It was the Queen of Hearts. Lady Luck was on the Player's side tonight.

"The pits!"

"Strong Bad has…a full house!", Winslow announced. "The Player has…a full house! The Player wins the hand!"

"That's just great. Tooootal crap.", grumbled Strong Bad.

"The Player wins the tournament!"

"You know I let you win, right? I like to see how the other half lives sometimes."

The Player just shook his head at this as he watched Strong Bad storm off to the Buster Blaster arcade machine he didn't notice before below the stairs. Strong Bad was apparently a sore loser. Still, there was the issue of carrying Sasha back. Sighing, he put the issue aside as he went over to the bar to have a glass of wine. He hoped they served that.

* * *

Fortunately for the Player, Winslow had offered a briefcase to keep his winnings as well as a bouncer from the club behind the bookshelves to help carry the minigun. He passed by the bar, he saw Strong Bad away from his game and drinking a plain beer. Tycho had a gin fizz, Heavy was unbalanced on his bar stool over a peach bellini, and Max was supporting him.

The Player sat down next to Tycho, and asked for his specific drink order as quietly as possible while his 'courier' seated himself on a nearby table. Regardless, Mr. Brahe turned to him. "I take it you won."

Hesitation sank in, knowing that at least half of the four men now turning to The Player had armed weapons on their person. And one of them could easily crush him with his bare hands. "What gave it away? Strong Bad?" Tycho nodded in response.

The Heavy then got up and lumbered over to the Player, who stared up at the gargantuan man and gulped silently.

Suddenly, the Heavy bellowed with laughter, then crouched down and grinned. "I did not think little baby man had it in him!" He then lightly tapped the Player on the arm, leaving a bruise he would only discover after undressing for sleep.

Strong Bad shrugged. "Yeah, it's cool. Whatever. What-to-the-ever." His indifference was a thumbs up nonetheless as far as the Player was concerned.

Tycho passed him the glass of wine. "You leveled up, broski."

"I'm not a broski.", retorted the Player.

"Sure you are."

"Whatever." The Player then pulled back a sleeve to check his watch, then stood up. "Well, it's time for me to go."

"You're leaving?", asked Max.

"Eeyup. Can't be late for work tomorrow. My shift starts at 1400 hours. 2 pm." He then waved them farewell. "Sayonara."

As he made his way to the stairs up and out of this place, the bouncer following him, he heard Max call, "If you ever need anyone rough-housed by a crazy sociopathic lagomorph, you got me on tap!"

"You are credit to team!", said the Heavy.

The Player waved again before walking up the steps, glad to put this night behind him. He'll still come back whenever he could though; those guys are interesting poker players, and you always learned something new from their conversations. He better thank his friend for recommending this place once he sees him again.

nightelf37: I hope this is somewhat better than the other two (RLYoshi, id number 2966082 and Skye Slipstream, id number 1220627) PN TI stories with the Player. See ya on Third!


End file.
